


Silver and Black

by Christie Redfield (Steampunkjeans)



Category: Doctor Who
Genre: Angst, F/M, Post Regeneration, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-26
Updated: 2017-08-26
Packaged: 2018-12-20 04:54:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,297
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11913630
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Steampunkjeans/pseuds/Christie%20Redfield
Summary: Exploding glass tea kettles and hot showers and shaving.





	Silver and Black

**Author's Note:**

> I posted this originally ages ago on tumblr. Spoilers for "The Time of the Doctor".
> 
> Disclaimer: Doctor Who is © BBC and the show’s creator(s). No copyright infringement is intended whatsoever nor is any profit being made from this fanfic; i.e. it is purely non-profit.

Silver and Black  
By Christie Redfield

The Doctor gave a sigh of relief as he wiped his face off with a towel, clouds of steam obscuring his sight. He dressed blindly, pulling on a pair of black silk knickers and a-shirt before he stepped in front of the mirror and wiped it clean with his hand. 

One of the benefits of the TARDIS being as large a ship as she was that you had your own bathroom. Honestly though, considering he’d had several female companions accompany him on his journeys over the years, it seemed inevitable that they would be installed one way or another. That's not to say women were fickle things when it came to personal hygiene but...oh damn who was he kidding it was just easier having your own personal space to call your own. And considering the way things had gone earlier, he wanted some time to himself.

As many a Time Lord had said before him: regeneration was a double-edged sword. Old scars would disappear and the flesh would heal, the body revitalized. And yet, there were certain limitations depending on the skill of the Time Lord or Lady in question. You had but a scant few moments to visualize your new form during regeneration and whether you liked it or not, you'd be stuck with it until the next go around. If only it were that easy to explain...and not once does it ever get easy. No, in his opinion it only got trickier the further down the road you went.

Turning his attention back to the task at hand, the Doctor reached for a small jar he had placed on a flat stone, the container warm to the touch as he removed the lid. An ebony handled shaving brush in hand, he applied the jar's contents to his face. He scrutinized his appearance as he did so, still not quite accustomed to his new features. Once finished he reached for a straightedge razor he had placed nearby and sharpened the blade with a scrap of leather.

The scrap of leather was tossed aside as he leaned forward and he very carefully scraped the blade against his face using light, delicate strokes. 

The blade bit into his skin as he heard a loud explosion accompanied by a scream and he cursed foully as he dropped the blade and raced out of the bathroom at full speed towards the source of the noise.

"Clara! Clara?!" he shouted as he ran into the kitchen where he was immediately greeted by the smell of burnt chamomile leaves.

Shards of broken glass were on the floor in a heap, a small pool of water close by. He moved closer and picked at the broken pieces and he pulled a hand back in shock, and stuck his burnt fingers into his mouth. Clara rounded the corner at that very moment, her brown hair a mess.

"Doctor! You're bleeding!" 

"Never mind that, what were you trying to do, blow up the kitchen ?!" he asked her a little more forcefully than he had hoped. He used a rag to pick up the broken shards of glass from the floor as she put the flame out on the stove.

"I left the kettle on, it was a low flame, I didn't think it would get so hot so fast, who keeps a glass tea kettle anyway?" she asked him as she looked over her shoulder.

"It was a gift, from Lady Visara of Rallamattoria," he replied nonchalantly as he rose to his feet, "They specialize specifically in glass wares, they're supposed to be very resistant to wear and tear, able to last twice as long as normal wares, supposedly," He dropped the glass shards into a small metal bin on the counter, the pieces clattered loudly as they hit the tin.

Clara frowned as she studied the Doctor's face and she reached out with her free hand to examine the cut on his face, "You were trying to shave weren't you?" she asked him, "Why didn't you ask me to help?" 

"Never had to before," he replied gruffly, "Besides I've done this numerous times before. It's nothing new," he brushed her hand away, "Stop your fussing, it's just another scar that'll fade away with the next regeneration,"

At his remark Clara pulled her hand away sharply as though she had been burned. Her hand moved to fiddle with the pendant that hung around her neck, her eyes focused elsewhere.

Sensing her discomfort he bit down on his fingernails and approached Clara cautiously, "Clara, I'm sorry, I...," he spun on his heel as he struggled to find his words. He sighed as he stared down at his feet; he had meant to formulate some sort of a proper apology instead of the string of curse words he muttered as he now noticed the blood on his shirt. "Oh, fuckin' hell," Clara immediately looked up, her expression somewhere between baffled and amused.

"When did you ever become so foulmouthed?" She shook her head and grabbed hold of his hand, "Come on, let me tend to that cut of yours before you bleed all over the floor," 

The Doctor stumbled slightly as Clara led him down the hall by the hand, "Clara there's no need to," he started, but stopped speaking as she glanced over her shoulder, and huffed, "So stubborn,"

Clara ushered him into the bathroom and fetched a clean wash cloth which she ran under warm water. 

"Clara...," he started again, Clara turned towards her friend and pushed him towards a small wooden bench, "Sit," she commanded as she wrung the water out of the wash cloth. Doing as told the Doctor sat down, his shoulders slumped.

She sat down on the bench next to him and gently dabbed the cloth against his face. She frowned as she worked, "You’re certainly bleeding quite a lot for such a small cut, I can barely see it," Clara rinsed out the wash cloth and used it again to wipe the blood from his neck.

"Well, I am still in the first forty-eight hours of my regeneration," he replied, and he paused as he turned to look at Clara. "I think I'll be alright now Clara, though I can't say the same for the shirt," he smiled slightly and stilled her hand, stopping her work, "It was a joke, my humor's not all that bad is it?"

Clara blushed, she shook her head in an attempt to hide her embarrassment with a smile. New face, same man, more or less. She thought.

"No, no it isn't, at least not as bad as your shaving," she teased him. 

"Do you at least trust me enough to help you finish what you started?" she asked him.

"You helped me land the TARDIS didn't you?" he asked her.

"Yes, yes I did, is that a yes then?" she asked him again.

He gave her hand a gentle squeeze of reassurance, "Yes, and I suggest you hurry up before I change my mind," Clara smiled and rose to her feet, she turned towards the sink and rinsed out the wash cloth, she then did the same with the razor he had used earlier. 

The Doctor watched her as she worked, the tension from earlier had almost dissipated, but it was still there. He knew that things such as these would take time; it never got easier, no matter how many times he had regenerated. 

He moved to stand up as she turned around and she shook her head. "I said sit, you don't want another accident do you?" she asked him.

"No I suppose you're right," he smiled sheepishly as she sat down next to him,"Though your tea making may need some work."

~FIN


End file.
